Return
by Celtic Amazon
Summary: AU Begining with the end. Xena would do anything to get her son back.
1. The End

She cried out in anguish as the precious bundle shattered into a thousand glittering shards, the pieces skittering to the floor, falling through the cracks, rolling away irretrievably.

"No..no…" she sobbed, falling to her knees, desperately scrabbling at the tiny innumerable pieces in vain.

The small room had erupted into chaos, with every other ragged patron also diving to the filthy floor in search of whatever priceless cargo had been lost, as a dozen armed men also swarmed in from every entrance. Rough hands hauled her to her feet, and she struck wildly at them whether it was Borias or some zealous scavenger or one of the men intent on killing her. She didn't care. Her only chance at bringing her son back had just exploded like a galaxy of irretrievable fragments, far flung beyond hope of regaining. Against her will it seemed, her own traitorous feet carried her over the splintering window sill and into the half frozen waters below, the remains of the ragged bundle still grasped desperately in her arms. She swam numbly under the weight of her drenched clothing, with arrows humming by her, still hampered by her irredeemable load. She pushed herself weakly to her feet when she reached the shore, beginning a stumbling run over the frosted terrain. The painstakingly wrapped crimson swaddling, dripping briny water as she limped on deadened legs, blind, insensate, until she collapsed. She almost didn't hear the horses' hooves until they were close enough to trample her and still she didn't move.

He was dead. Her child, her son, the only thing left to her, and he was gone. She'd failed. He was dead. She wanted only to join him.

A single rider circled her a few times, his horse's hooves pawing inches from her huddled form. She could hear other horses, other men, murmuring just under the fierce wind. The horse closest her pawed the earth a little snorting as its rider dismounted, boots approaching through the frozen grass.

"What are you doing?"

She heard it from not far to her left, indignant, heavily accented.

The man approaching didn't answer, simply knelt at her side, one calloused hand seeking her chin, tilting it so their eyes met. _Borias._

Her numbed fingers released the remains of the crimson swaddling, letting it fall into the snow. _Finsh it._ She implored him with her eyes. _Just finish it…_

Gently, he wrapped a strong arm around her, pulling her upright, gathering her into his arms. Something in her broke, the numbness receding at the feel of being wrapped so protectively in the familiar arms, his cloak enfolding her, the smell of leather of horses...the numbness making way for indescribable pain as she grasped desperately at his cloak, his dark braids, the father of her child…


	2. Nietzche's Hope

_"Hope is the worst of Evils, for it prolongs the torments of man." (Frederick Nietzche)_

The candles lining the shrine flickered in the thin breeze, and the stilled loom rattled in time.

"You seek the impossible."

The youngest of the Three Sisters watched her with cool grey eyes.

Xena ignored her, approaching the great loom slowly, deliberately.

"Chaining us accomplishes nothing." The Middle Sister informed her icily, "What has been woven cannot be undone."

"Nothing's impossible…" The Warrior Princess stumbled slightly on her ragged robes, as her hand found the smooth shuttle, "Is it?"

The empty air she'd spoken to crackled blue, as The God of War stepped out of the Aether, shaking his head mockingly, "You ladies are just pessimists at heart. Cut a seam or two here…tie a few loose ends up…change fate. Easy as-" Ares produced a dagger, "a simple snip in the right place."

The Oldest Fate laughed dryly, "Even the gods are subject to our designs, Ares. And just because you are a simpleton, does not mean what you intend will be simple."

"Don't listen to the old hag, Xena. She knows there's nothing she can do to stop us."

Xena turned to look at him with bleary exhausted eyes. Three weeks of mourning had taken their toll, and Ares shuddered inwardly at her hollow, gaunt expression.

"Trust me Xena."

She closed her eyes, fingers twisted in the ragged grey cloak she wore, "Let's just do this."

The return banter died on his lips, and for the first time since he'd discovered her lying on the floor of the Amazon temple bereaved beyond coherence at the death of her son, he was beginning to doubt his plans. Change the loom of fate, return Xena back to the days when she held the position of a powerful, albeit pregnant warlord, and get a second chance to turn her into everything she could have been. No irritating blond to interfere this time, and she was desperate for any opportunity to get a second chance to save her son.

"Ares." Her voice strained and she coughed, "Show me where to cut."

Indecisiveness wasn't in the nature of the gods, and Ares stepped forward and placed the blade in her hands. In no hurry, he spared a gloating look at the three bound Fates, sliding his hands along Xena's shoulders, guiding her along the loom, tracing the pattern to just the right spot.

"This is it?" she whispered.

"All you have to do is cut, and…," he smoothed his hands over her shoulders, trailing them down to rest on her hips, enjoying the fact that she didn't draw away, though it likely had more to do with a desperate need to maintain the exact position of her blade, than anything else, "Of course remember our deal. Only the five of us will know about this little…correction…But you can be sure I won't forget your promise of loyalty."

Xena pulled in a weary breath. _Oh yes, her promise._

Slowly, Ares toyed with the edges of her clothing, moving his hands back toward hers, "Just don't cut the threads before-"

There was a deafening crack as if lightening had struck the temple, and all sound all light, snuffed out in an instant. The threads had been cut.


	3. Paternal Instinct

"Xena

"Xena."

She panicked as she realized she couldn't feel her body.

"Xena!"

Her voice constricted in her throat as terror seized her. What had she done? Where had she cut? Had she cut too much? Cut everyone's life thread and her own?

"Xena!"

A stinging slap brought her body back in a dazzling array of stars and pin pricks.

"Ares…" She rasped. _What in Tartarus…_

She felt herself hauled to a sitting position though she hadn't been aware until now that she'd been lying down. A pair of hands grasped her face roughly, as she fought to clear her vision. It hadn't worked…something must have gone wrong…but the dark eyes she found staring back into hers were not those of the familiar god.

"Borias…?" The name barely escaped her breathless lips.

"Where is she? Where is Alti? I'll kill her…" the Hun growled.

She was struck speechless. Borias in the flesh, but he was long dead…over ten years had passed since she'd left him dying in the mud.

"You may not care about this child," he seethed, "But our son is not going to die because of that accursed witch!"

"Our son?" But Solan was…

The sudden realization of her own body at last hit her full force. Under the thick fur cloak she wore, her belly was swollen with child. Borias was alive. She was carrying Solan. It worked…She had reversed her fate…traveled backwards on the loom.

"What has she done to you?" her former lover demanded, fear edging in on anger.

"Nothing. I-I'm fine."

The hands gripping her softened as he moved a calloused hand to rest on her forehead, searching her face.

"I'm alright." _Everything's going to be alright this time…_

Borias' hands skimmed lightly down to rest on the soft curve of her abdomen. He moved carefully, assuring himself of her safety and the safety of the child she bore, but aware that at any moment her temper might flare and he would be barred from this small assurance. But she didn't pull away, didn't snap impatiently. She sat transfixed by how painfully familiar and reassuring his touch was after more than a decade, transfixed by dark leonine features so tangible again, and the sable eyes, holding her in a dizzying mixture of possessiveness and apprehension. She reached out a tentative hand, not without noticing the flicker in his eyes, as he prepared for a blow, but to his surprise, she let her fingers fall feather-light across his cheek, stroking over the rough stubble, down across his jaw. He sat perplexed, letting her trace his features, as if memorizing them. After a few moments in silence, he caught her hand in his.

"I'm going to get a healer."

"No." With a will, she forced the lightheaded amazement at being back in this place, in this long receded past aside, "Help me up."

Wordlessly, he drew her to her feet, but kept his hands firmly planted on her shoulders, she could see the questions tripping over each other on the tip of his tongue, and it was actually almost comical to see the distrust written plainly in his features.

"Borias." She felt the gooseflesh rise along her arms just speaking his name, "The Amazons…"

He clenched his jaw and withdrew.

Oh gods…she was too late. She was too late to stop the Xena of the past from murdering the tribe of Amazons and playing into Alti's hands.

"Cyane?" She choked.

Borias sighed in frustration and moved to pour himself some wine, "Xena, Cyane could still be a valuable ally."

"She's alive…"

Borias paused, cup held to his lips, "Yes…and?"

A matter of weeks ago, she'd been standing at her son's funeral pyre, betrayed by the woman she'd trusted most, with nothing but a hollow void before her. Now her child, his father, and the Amazon queen lived. Now she stood poised to take everything back.

"I've been thinking," She chose her words carefully, mindful of how the Xena of this time would come across suddenly changing her well-laid plans in an instant, "She's more use to us alive."

Borias frowned and took a drink, never taking his eyes off of her, "You've changed your mind?" he muttered disbelievingly, "And what about Alti and her promises? She's the reason you are so intent on destroying the Amazons isn't she?"

"Like you said," Xena fixed him unwavering, "I changed my mind."

Borias advanced on her, "What game are you playing?" he rumbled, coming close enough that his cloak brushed her and she could smell the scent of leather and horses.

"I…" This close proximity was wreaking havoc on her agenda of clear thought and quick decisive action, "I've seen a side of Alti that's convinced me she's more likely to be a threat than an ally."

The Hun nodded wryly, and took a deep drink, "This is about the girl; Alti's apprentice."

It was like an unexpected slap, and she was caught off guard to feel the pain, remembering the girl who had died all these years ago.

"No," Xena murmured, "It's more than that."

Borias scrubbed a hand across his face, glancing regretfully into his now empty cup, "You expect me to believe you've come to your senses?"

"Believe what you want," she countered tersely, "But Alti's a threat. I know that now."

The Hun considered her a moment before reaching for the wine flask with a derisive snort, "You say this now, but I know you Xena. That bitch Alti offers to make you 'Destroyer of Nations.' You won't turn on her." He smiled blackly, "Well…not until she delivers of course."

Angrily, Xena crossed the space between them, wrenching the flask from Borias' hand and slamming it down on the small side table, "You've wanted Alti dead since the day she set foot in this camp, and now I'm just about giving you the order to cut her throat and you're hesitating?!"

"Whatever game this is," he growled, "I'm not in the mood."

They stood in taut silence for a few seconds, neither wavering, each staring each other down. Borias was the first to break the standoff, storming out of the tent, taking the wine with him. She shouldn't have expected to find an ally in him; not here and now anyway.

The dim brazier in the centre of the tent cast uncertain shadows in the wake of its orange glow. Furs, cloaks, weapons, were scattered haphazard about the space. A few minutes of searching turned up a wickedly curved dagger, which she tucked into her fur lined cloak. Outside the tent, she could hear her army settling in for the night.

Her hands traveled irresistibly back to her slightly rounded abdomen, "It's alright," she whispered, "I know what I have to do."


	4. Bittersuite Symphony

The men huddled around the small fires that dotted the camp were visibly restless. As they sat smoking, eating, talking, some settling in for the night, their weapons were rarely sheathed. Xena could see them chomping at the bit, chafing for battle. She skirted their small groups warily. Now and again, a face stood out from the rest and she felt a flash of recognition. These were her killers, her loyal pack of wolves, and she had put them in the mind of battle, on the scent of blood a long time ago now. They were waiting for a war.

The only place the men didn't make their presence felt, was in the vicinty of the large hide tent that perched on the outskirts of the ring of yurts. It's walls were painted with grotesque symbols, many drawn in brown, dried blood. Not all of it was animal. A thin tendril of smoke wound its way into the night from the hole in the centre of the tent. Alti was within. Xena could feel time sliding by keenly, but if Ares had kept his part of their bargain, Alti's curse had not been spoken yet.

_Your son will not know the love of either of his parents._

It didn't matter now. Now, she had the wisdom of her stolen time. She would save her child. She would make ammends before it was too late. She would kill the shamaness.

Grimly, she stopped before the flap of the tent. Her heart skittered in her chest, and she checked herself. She stood watching her breath cloud out in front of her a moment longer. This was something she'd known from the begining she would have to do. Alti must die. There were no second thoughts; just a coiling of her nerves, of her sinews, like a predator preparing for the pounce. It was freeing: this lack of hesitation, this righteous decisiveness. It brushed against the parts of her soul she'd suppressed for so long now. Nobility and goodness could make a person bone weary. Taking a life with unflinching precision left no room for the exhaustion of self-reflection.

She flexed he fingers around the hilt of her knife, "Alti!"

The shamaness' figure appeared, framed in the entrance to her tent.

"Xena," she rasped, a leer of a smile snaking across her features, "I've been expecting you."

She ducked after Alti, and stepped into the shelter, out of the searching winds. Inside, the smell of sage was overpowering, and it stung her eyes to peer into the indistinct gloom. It was a familiar shadow that she entered, following Alti's sillouhette into the confined space.

"What took you so long?" The older woman asked, her parched tone low.

Xena watched her seat herself on the opposite side of the small copper brazier in the centre of the tent. It was like watching a snake sowly, and deliberately coiling.

"I've been busy, " she took up her own place, across from the other woman, "It's been hard to find the time," she returned levelly.

An arid grin seeped into Alti's features, and the shamaness reached for a stick to stir the pungent fire before her,"You've been having doubts. About the Amazons..." She overturned a flaming piece of bark, "And your second in comand..." Alti's smoky eyes drifted through Xena's, for a moment before she closed them, beathing in deeply, with a throaty chuckle, "and this child."

Xena felt her nails dig into her palm, around the hilt of her weapon.

"But I've been looking ino your future."

Xena froze, her tightly wound innards wrenching a little.

"Do you know what I saw, Xena?"

"No."

"Your son will not-"

Xena leapt to her feet, kicking the brazier across the tent, igniting the hides and furs. Alti struck at her over the bed of coals, barely touching the ground as she moved, flinging Xena back with extraordinary strength. The Warrior Princess crashed through the wooden supports with a deafening crack, skidding to a halt on the well-packed earth. She staggered to her feet in time to receive a boot to the face, sending her back to her knees. She spat blood. Unsheathing her dagger, she lunged at the shamaness. Alti sidestepped her with supernatural agility, but the blade still drew blood.

The commotion had the men of the camp on their feet, scrambling for their weapons. They yelled and cursed back and forth, unsure of whether or not to interfere. Alti held a trembling hand over the deep gash Xena had inflicted across her abdomen. The shamaness was breathing hard, but by no means close to defeat. A low half snarl, half chuckle emanated from her throat, as her eyes travelled up to Xena's face. The Warrior Princess stood her ground, keeping her distance for the moment.

"This will change nothing Xena...what you are trying to do here...It's useless..."

"Xena?" one of her lieutenants, drew as close as he dared, "What are your orders?"

The shamaness smiled slowly,"You don't understand the forces you're playing with."

"Xena?"

More men were mustering.

Xena shifted her stance, keeping her eyes locked with Alti. Wordlessly, she drew a second dagger from her boot. No more games.

At the sight of the second blade, Alti's lips quirked, "Tsk, tsk" she scolded, her eyes sliding shut.

Suddenly, three of the men dropped to the ground, writhing in pain. Before Xena could issue any orders, the rest of the men charged forward intent on killing the witch. They were stopped mid-stride by an invisible force, that flung them bonelessly to the ground. A second wave rushed toward Alti, only to be dashed aside as well, but this time, Xena took advantage, and sprinted directly after them, vaulting over the fallen bodies, and taking Alti mid-air, by surprise. The shamaness stumbled and fell flat under Xena, who skillfully pinned her. Alti managed to disarm one of the daggers, but Xena reasserted her hold, and it was a battle of pure strength, as she pressed the blade closer and closer toward Alti's throat. Suddenly, a searing pain, ripped through her gut, as if she's been stabbed.

_The centurion's face was grim, as he dealt the blow..._

xena gasped at the clarity of the sudden vision, and the all too real pain, as blood began to run from the wound. Alti was using one of her favorite powers.

_The horse shrieked in terror as the thunder tore trough cliffs overhead. At the last minute, Xena lost her grip on the rain-slicked reins, and pitched down over the cliff's edge..._

Xena was once again airbourne, flung backwards to land not ten feet off, but even so, with the distinctive snap of a broken arm. She clamped her mouth shut against the cry of pain that came to her lips.

"Xena!"

Borias was sprinting toward her from the otherside of the camp, sword drawn.

Alti rose to her feet, having noticed the Hun, she grinned. "Borias...I have something for you."

He cried out in pain and alarm, as he toppled to the ground, one of his legs now bleeding profusely. He swore, struggling upright. "Alti, I swear by the gods-"

He stopped mid sentence, all colour draining from his face. He fell to his knees, gasping, coughing blood.

"Does this look familiar Xena?"

_Borias stumbled and fell. His dimming eyes desperately seeking her. They lighted on her and their son, as a deadly glaze entered them..._

Furiously, Xena hurled her dagger at the shamaness. It buried to the hilt in Alti's chest, and she stumbled back a few steps, before toppling over. Xena was already standing over her, brandishing the sword of one of her fallen men. She switched it to her unbroken arm, intent on her one target. Suddenly, white hot agony ripped through her legs, and she fell to the dirt.

_The hammer fell across her legs, delivering a pain she would not have believed possible until this moment. She begged for oblivion...._

No.

In one fluid movement, she dealt the killing blow. Alti's dark-rimmed eyes went wide with shock.

"Bet you didn't see this one coming.." Xena rasped, as she watched the life seep out of the shamaness.

"Useless..." Alti coughed, "...can't... change fate."

Those words sent a cold chill through her, but she pushed it down. She grabbed Alti's chin, to force their eyes together, as the last light faded there.

Gradually, the pain in her limbs subsided to a tolerable ache, as Alti's power faded. Not all of the men around her were so lucky. Only about half were rising. Her gaze fell on Borias' form, still lying prone. She staggered toward him desperately, hauling him to his back. Blood coated his chest and back, from a gruesome stab wound. He was still, and not breathing. Desperately, she felt for a pulse....It was there! Faint and thready but...as she watched in releived amazement, as her wounds had healed with Alti's death, Borias' wound gradually began to knit back together. He choked and gasped as his breath returned, and he sat bolt upright, clutching his stomach. After a few moments, he lifted his face to her.

"Alti is dead," he managed.

She nodded. His expression softened as he laid a hand across her abdomen.

"I'm alright," she murmured, "and he'll be alright now that-"

"Xena?!"

She was cut short by the arrival of Dagnine.

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'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life...

- The Verve "Bittersweet Symphony"


End file.
